


The Thin Line Between Love and Hate

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awesome Laura Hale, Cop Cora, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Lawyer Lydia, Light Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, On Hiatus, Sassy Peter Hale, Trouble Magnet Stiles and Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2100189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance meeting leaves Lydia forever ingrained in the Hales' lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brown Eyed Girl

**Author's Note:**

> No idea where this came from, but I got really giddy while writing the first chapter, so I guess it's gonna become my new obsession (plus, there are very few people I don't ship Lydia with).
> 
> Anyway, the title is a based off a song by The Pretenders, and I'll try to update soon-ish.
> 
> Thanks for reading and drop me a comment if you have the time.
> 
> Bye!!!

Funky Town wakes Lydia from a dead sleep and in that moment she hates Stiles. She groans, rolling over, grabbing her phone off the nightstand. Sure enough, the smug bastard’s grinning face flashes back at her, giving her two thumbs up. If he had been standing in front of her, Lydia is sure she would have amputated those thumbs.

“What?” she answers putting as much venom into her words as she can this early in the morning.

“ _Don’t freak out,”_ Stiles slurs on the other end, hiccupping loudly in Lydia’s ear. “ _Scotty and I have been arrested.”_

Lydia sighs heavily, but sits up, running a hand through her still damp hair. “It’s three-thirty in the morning. What were you and Scott doing…?” she trails off, reminding herself to never, ever apply logic to Scott and Stiles, and quickly asks, “Does Scott want me to call Allison?”

“ _Please don’t tell Allison,”_ Scott shouts in the background just as a female says, “ _Alright, sir, hand the phone over.”_

“ _Wait!!! Lydia, if I die in prison, tell my dad I love him.”_ Lydia rolls her eyes, muttering about how dramatic Stiles is being (of course, she can’t remember a time when he’s _never_ being dramatic)

“ _Are you his wife?”_ a female voice suddenly demands.

“Wife?” Lydia scoffs, shaking her head, not caring for this woman’s attitude. “Please, I am his lawyer _.”_

“ _Well, tell your client he’s a moron,”_ the woman retorts and the line goes dead. Lydia rolls her eyes. She didn’t have time for rude, ill-tempered cops (which she’s assuming that woman must be). Not when she had to plan Stiles and Scott’s murder all the way to the police station.

* * *

Lydia isn’t technically a lawyer yet. She’s in her last year of law school, working as an intern over the summer for a law firm in Beacon Hills. She had tried for one in Palo Alto-much closer to Stanford-but some girl named Meredith beat her out for the position. Lydia wants to be mad, she really wanted the internship, but she met Meredith briefly and liked her, so she could barely muster up mild contempt for the girl when she congratulated her, and she wishes Meredith all the best.

And working for the Beacon Hills firm isn’t the worst thing. She works under a lawyer named Peter Hale, who, despite his slightly creepy demeanor, has taught her a few things. He’s ruthless in the court room, with a cutthroat attitude similar to the one Lydia prides herself on, and as mentors go, she could do worse.

Though, if she’s being honest, she wouldn’t mind working under Peter’s niece Laura. Where Peter digs into the defense side until he gets what he wants, Laura has a more subtle approach resulting in her getting all the answers she needs without the defense lawyers realizing what Laura had been doing until it’s too late. Lydia would kill to have Laura as a mentor.

The sheriff’s department isn’t very big nor does it see too many big crimes. In fact, Lydia believes the biggest crime Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department has ever solved was the case of the missing dog. It turned out the woman, whose dog had gone missing, had let it out and forgot about it. The dog turned up two days later, covered in mud but relatively unhurt, and begging for treats. So, unleashing Stiles and Scott onto Beacon Hills is a bit like unleashing Dennis the Menace and Chuckie Finster inside a TARDIS. No one is quite sure what’ll happen, but one, or both, is bound to end up in some kind of trouble.

Stiles’ father, who is the sheriff, one time threatened to keep his son in jail for an entire weekend if he had gotten arrested again and Lydia had heard the retelling of the time when Scott had been fifteen and cried when he and Stiles ended up hauled off in handcuffs for the first time. The charges never actually stuck, but Stiles and Scott aren’t trouble magnets for nothing.

She’s not surprised they were arrested. Scott is getting married next weekend, and Stiles probably figured why not spend Scott’s last free weekend doing crazy stuff. It’ll be the last time they’ll be able to get away with it anyway, especially with Allison seven months pregnant with Scott’s son. The last thing the littlest McCall needs is to visit his father behind bars because his stupid Uncle Stiles couldn’t act his age for once in his life.

Lydia pulls up to the police station just as Deputy Parrish is leaving. He greets her with a small wave, his keys dangling in his hand, and nods behind him, saying, “They’re inside. Better hurry or Cora might kill them.”

“Cora?” Lydia knew most of the officers, but she had never heard of this ‘Cora’ woman. “Did Sheriff Stilinski hire new deputies?”

“Two,” Parrish answers, pressing the button to unlock his car. “Some guy named Greenburg, who probably won’t last very long, and a New York cop named Cora. You know her family, the Hales.”

“How many Hales are there?” Lydia asks curiously. Parrish shrugs, getting in his car. He starts it, giving Lydia another wave, and drives away. She waits until she sees taillights before heading inside.

Boyd looks up from his computer at Lydia’s entrance, silently nodding behind him, towards the cells. Lydia walks past him, offering him a smile as thank you, and heads down the hall. She can already hear Stiles, demanding his phone call, while a tired voice says, “You already _got_ your phone call.”

“Well, I’m starving,” Stiles complains, a whine underlying his tone. “Can’t you at least get me some of those cheese crackers from the vending machine?”

“Stiles,” Scott grumbles, sounding like he’s about to be sick. “Stop talking about food.”

“Scotty, whatever you do, don’t puke. If you puke, I’ll puke, and then this lady will probably puke, and then I’ll probably puke again. It’ll be vomit madness!!”

“Stiles,” Scott snaps just as Lydia enters the room. He has his forehead resting against the bars, his face a grayish-greenish color, and Lydia gives him t-minus five minutes before his face meets the toilet. Stiles, on the other hand, has his face pressed to the bars, looking much like a child peering into a candy store (if the candy store had bars for windows instead of glass), his brown eyes practically pleading the woman standing in front of him to bring him food.

Her brown hair is tied back in a messy ponytail, some of it falling out and into her face, and she’s not wearing her uniform jacket. Her gun is also missing, making Lydia wonder if the woman, who Lydia assumes is Cora, had pondered shooting Stiles. Lydia’s knows, for a fact, that both Boyd and Erica have thought about it, but neither one had been serious enough to have to leave their guns where they couldn’t reach them. It’s obvious this woman does not know Stiles Stilinski.

“I’ll take it from here,” Lydia says startling the brunette, and she slowly turns to fix the redhead with a hard stare, her dark eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pursed.

“Do these morons belong to you?” she asks slowly, gesturing behind her to Stiles and Scott.

“That’s Lydia,” Stiles shouts before Lydia could respond, waving enthusiastically at her. “Hi Lydia!” He punches Scott’s arm, who lets out an indignant sound, and says, “Say hi to Lydia, Scott.”

“I just want to go home,” Scott groans closing his eyes, breathing deeply.

“Tell them my brother won’t be pressing charges,” Cora says unlocking the cell door to let the guys out. “Also tell them if I catch either one acting like idiots again, I’ll find something to charge them with.”

“Please,” Stiles scoffs stumbling out of the cell. “My dad’s been threatening me with the same thing for years.” He staggers towards Lydia, throwing his arms around her in a sloppy, half-hug. “God, I haven’t seen you since forever. What is up with you?”

“It’s been twelve hours, Stiles,” Lydia retorts drily, untangling herself from the lanky man. She turns to Scott, who has yet to get up, and puts her hands on her hips. “I’m not carrying you.”

“Just leave me here to die,” Scott states when he tries and fails to get up. “Tell Allison not to let Stiles name the baby.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, for Crissakes.” Lydia crosses the room, grabbing Scott’s arm, and tries to pull him to his feet. It takes her two tries, grumbling the entire time about him helping her, before Scott finally stands up. He sways back and forth, but manages to stay upright, and Lydia feels safe enough to let him go.

“What exactly did they do?” Lydia can’t help asking, turning her attention to Cora.

“Drunk and disorderly,” Cora answers gruffly, closing the cell door. “They peed on my brother’s car, claimed he wouldn’t serve them anymore alcohol.”

“He wouldn’t!” Stiles exclaims half-holding Scott up, while also using Scott as a crutch to stay standing. “He said we had enough which is complete bullshit because I know my limits. And my limits…” he trails off, looking like he’s about to puke, but he forces it down, and points at Cora, whispering “…have not been met.”

“Get them out of here.”

Lydia wants to call Cora out on her attitude, but as someone who has had to deal with a drunken Scott and Stiles on several occasions, she can relate to the brunette’s irritation. It doesn’t mean they’re going to bond over shared experiences, but she’s deciding to give Cora the benefit of the doubt for right now.

“Come on, guys.” She ushers Scott and Stiles forward, falling into step behind them, and follows them out of the police station.

* * *

Lydia gets sixteen apology text messages from Allison the next day and another five from Stiles. Scott personally stopped by her office, no doubt on Allison’s orders, and apologized with a café miel and homemade brownies from Allison’s bakery. She accepted the gifts, because no one has ever turned down a brownie made by Allison, and told him that if he ever bothered her that late again both he and Stiles would wake up to find themselves eviscerated.

Around eleven-thirty, Laura’s assistant Isaac stops by with an invitation from Laura, offering to take her to lunch, and Lydia jumps at the chance to get out of the office. Plus, all she’s eaten today is brownies and she can’t possible eat another piece of chocolate anything. Laura meets both Isaac and Lydia in the lobby, texting on her i-Phone.

She holds up a finger when Isaac opens his mouth to speak, smirking as she hits send, and then looks up to meet Lydia’s green eyes with her own, bright blue ones. “Hello Lydia.” Laura smiled, holding her hand out; perfectly manicured fingernails making Lydia practically drool. She _had_ to find out what salon Laura frequented.

“Hello,” Lydia greeted shaking Laura’s hand.

“I thought you, me, and Isaac could enjoy lunch today.” She nods at Isaac, who’s already on his phone, no doubt making last minute reservations to some place close by. “And I thought I should apologize on behalf of my sister. I hear you and Cora had an interesting meeting last night.”

“She wasn’t _that_ bad,” Lydia lied not wanting to offend Laura.

“Lydia, please,” Laura snorts her heels clicking on the marble floor as she leads Lydia and Isaac outside. “I grew up with Cora, had to share a room with her, I know what her personality is like. Besides, she told me what happened last night, and trust me she’s like that with everyone.”

“In her defense, I know what Scott and Stiles are like, I should be apologizing for those two,” Lydia answers easily keeping pace with Laura, very much aware of Isaac keeping his distance but still following the two women.

“Just let me buy you lunch.” Laura opens the door to a town car, gesturing for Lydia to get in first. Isaac follows the red head, still on his phone, his eyebrows furrowed, a worry line working its way across his forehead. He hurriedly scrolls through his contacts, hitting send on a number somewhere in the middle, and speaks quickly but quietly when someone picks up.

He hangs up just as Laura gets into the car and says, “Your meeting has been moved to three-thirty.” He gives Laura a triumphant smile, and she returns it, nodding her head in thanks. “Whittemore tried to fight the switch.”

“Of course.” Laura rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “He’d try to put a stop to aging if he could,” she mutters with a small sigh. “Did you finally land his assistant’s number?” Laura gave Isaac a knowing smile and his face turned red. “Oh, I saw you eyeing Danny the last time we were in court. What is taking so long?”

Isaac mutters something Lydia can’t hear, his face even redder, and Laura gives him a look of sympathy. She rests a hand on his arm and says, “I get it, and I’m sorry.” She drops her hand from his arm, clears her throat, and promptly changes the subject. “So, where are we eating?”

They end up eating at a small, classy bistro that Lydia had never been to, but Laura swears the food is decent. The entire time, Laura didn’t talk about work once, claiming she had had enough ‘shop talk’ at the office and needed to unwind with some nitty, gritty gossip.

She’d been shocked to learn that Lydia used to date her opposing lawyer, and both women spent a good thirty minutes trading quips about the man. Laura then spent another fifteen minutes talking about her sister and brother, informing Lydia that both had similar personalities, and took time to get along with people, something that Lydia did not doubt after meeting Cora.

“…and our mother _hates_ that Derek decided to become a bartender,” Laura says around a mouthful of hamburger. “She says that Derek had the potential to become whatever he wanted, could have done anything, and all that other BS mother’s sprout off about their children. She wanted him to become a doctor like her, but his bedside manner has a lot to be desired and he hates hospitals. Dad wanted him to become a lawyer, like him, Peter, and I, but Derek may be a little too aggressive to be a lawyer.

“Cora surprised no one by becoming a cop. I think she used to be a prison warden in a past life.” Lydia laughs softly, taking a bite of her salad. Laura could talk all day long, about anything, and most likely make it the most interesting topic Lydia had ever heard. “Though, no one surprised the family more than me.”

“Why?” Lydia asks curiously, noting the small snicker coming from Isaac.

“Oh shut up,” Laura huffs playfully punching his arm. “It’s nothing,” she quickly adds, turning to face Lydia again. “It’s just Mom had always been sure I’d take off on the back of a motorcycle with some guy named Red and get married in Vegas.” At Lydia’s surprised look, Laura says, “I may have been a bit of a wild child when I was younger.”

“A bit,” Isaac mutters typing on his cell phone again.

“I know where you sleep,” Laura retorts darkly, narrowing her eyes at her assistant.

“You can’t kill me,” Isaac states calmly, hitting send on the message he had been typing. “I have the only passwords to your entire life.” He waves the phone in the air, a triumphant grin on his face.

“I’m sure jonsnowknowsnothing is really hard to misspell.” Laura quirks an eyebrow, an amused look on her face when Isaac’s grin falls. He mutters something under his breath before furiously typing on his phone again.

“It’s scary how well you know me,” he comments softly, eyes still glued to his phone.

“I know all,” Laura whispers, sounding a bit like those television psychics Lydia used to see during her late night study breaks, giving the redhead a small smile and a conspiratorial wink.

Lunch goes longer than it’s supposed to, and Peter is waiting for the trio when they return to the office. His assistant Kira lingers behind him, her arms full of folders, and her sentence trails off the moment Laura lets the door close behind her.

“You know, I recall lunch being thirty minutes,” Peter says slowly, looking between Lydia and Laura.

“This firm is half mine,” Laura starts meeting her uncle’s eyes, “and if I want a two hour lunch, I’ll take a two hour lunch. Besides, if I recall correctly, you took a four hour lunch break three times last week. I’m sure _she_ was worth it.”

Peter merely shrugs, amusement dancing in his eyes, and slowly walks away. Kira offers them a half-nod, half-shrug before chasing after him, continuing whatever she had been saying earlier as if she had not been interrupted. Laura watches him go, waiting until he’s disappeared back inside his office, before turning to Lydia.

“You ever get tired of him, come find me.” She offers Lydia a smile, waves, and walks away, Isaac right behind her, on his phone again, this time speaking quickly in Russian.

As she returns to her tiny office, Lydia can’t help but fall a little in love with Laura Hale.

* * *

The next day, Lydia finds flowers on her desk. They’re lilies, something she doesn’t particularly care for, but it’s the first time since Stiles’ week long stalker fest their freshmen year of college that she’s gotten flowers, so she accepts the gift. There isn’t a card, no message whatsoever, and for a brief second Lydia actually thinks Peter left them as his own way of trying to keep her from leaving him for Laura.

But she dismisses the idea rather quickly. Peter seems like the type to leave lavish gifts, something with more diamonds and less plant life, and even if he did go the flower route, he’d get something more expensive than lilies. They could be from Laura, but why wouldn’t she leave a card? Or give them to Lydia in person. And she doubts they’re from Isaac, who seemed more interested in Jackson’s assistant Danny and didn’t seem like he had any interest in Lydia yesterday during lunch.

They could also be from Scott, once again trying to apologize for Tuesday, but Lydia doubts he wouldn’t leave a card. It’d be something cheesy and too cutesy, but he’d leave one. And Stiles, who had gone too far with some of his gifts in the past, would have had these mailed to Lydia’s apartment (along with six dozen more and quite possibly a puppy). Besides, he hasn’t shown hardly any romantic interest in Lydia since their junior year of college. In fact, the last she checked, he had been bouncing between two partners, but that had been three months ago. He could have moved on by now.

Deciding it’s not worth the headache; she puts her secret admirer on hold for now and puts her flowers next to the window sill so they can get what little sunlight the small window provides. She gets to work, pushing the flowers to the back of her mind, and all but forgets them until Isaac reminds her when he drops by her office again.

“Who left you flowers?” he asks curiously.

“What?” Lydia turns, her eyes settling on the lilies, and she shrugs. “I have no idea. I was hoping you or Laura would know.” She returns her gaze to Isaac and he shrugs.

“They didn’t leave a card?”

“No.” Lydia shakes her head, glancing back at the flowers again. Turning back to Isaac, she says, “Can I help you?”

“Laura’s in meetings all day,” Isaac replies holding up a sack lunch. “Wanna have lunch with me?”

“You know, I would love to,” Lydia answers getting to her feet. She grabs the banana and lemonade she had packed for her own lunch and follows Isaac out of her office.

They take a seat on the steps outside, Isaac shrugging off his jacket for Lydia doesn’t have to sit on the dirty concrete. She offers him a smile, sitting on the black jacket, and starts to peel her banana.

“It’s rare I get to sit out here,” Isaac tells her opening his bag. He pulls out a thermos and a spoon, setting the bag to the side so he can dig into the thermos’ contents.

“Why?” Lydia asks taking a bite of her banana.

“Because Laura is either dragging me to another lunch meeting or I’m neck deep in paperwork,” he replies digging into some tomato soup. “I remember, when Laura first hired me, I used to sit out here every day, but then the Hale name started getting more and more attention until we had more clients than we knew what to do with.”

“Well, you get to sit out here now,” Lydia states lightly, looking over at Isaac.

“I guess I do.”

They spend their lunch break talking about nothing special, mostly wondering aloud if Peter used to be a vampire in his last life, and Isaac’s phone didn’t leave his pocket one time. Afterward, Isaac walks Lydia to her office, pointing out pictures of past Hales.

“That’s Nathan Hale,” he says pointing at a dark haired, green eyed man of around forty. “I never knew him, but Laura swears her father could convince an innocent man he was guilty without blinking an eye. Of course, he’d never actually do it, too moral, but it’s a nice talent to have.”

Lydia shrugs, not sure if she’d like that much power, and asks, “What happened to him?”

“He died about ten years ago,” Isaac responds stopping just outside of Lydia’s door. “Brain aneurism.”  Lydia makes a sympathetic sound, her eyes still on Nathan’s picture. “That’s why this place is half Laura’s, he left his share to her. Peter thought he’d be getting the entire firm, and it took a while for him to warm up to Laura.”

“That seems to be a running theme with most of the Hales,” Lydia comments drily, and Isaac snorts. She turns to the curly haired blond, offering him a smile. “Thank you for inviting me to lunch.”

“You’re welcome.” He nods, turning to walk away, adding over his shoulder, “Good luck with the flower bandit.”  Lydia laughs softly, walking into her office, only to freeze, her eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Cora Hale poking at the lilies on Lydia’s windowsill.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Lydia demands crossing her arms.

Cora quickly turns around, shoving her hands in her jeans pocket, and says, “Look, Laura told me to apologize, so here I am. Accept it or not, I don’t care.”

“Look, sweetheart, an apology usually consists of actually apologizing,” Lydia retorts sardonically, smirking at the glare Cora threw her.

“What do you think those are?” the brunette points to the lilies, a crinkled card clutched in her hand. “I forgot to add the stupid card, so here.” She shoves the card at the redhead, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere but here, and, truthfully, Lydia wishes she were anywhere but here.

Lydia opens the card, rolling her eyes when she reads: _Sorry, I guess_.

“If I accept this piddly apology will you go away?” Lydia looks up from the card, eyebrows raised expectantly. Cora scowls, her dark eyes narrowing, and walks past the redhead without another word. “Apology accepted, I guess,” Lydia calls mockingly at the brunette’s back, closing the door just as Cora holds up her middle finger. Fuming, Lydia falls into her chair, wondering how someone like Laura can be related to someone like Cora Hale.


	2. Uptown Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have had this up last night, but I got too tired to finish it.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for the comments and kudos and all that jazz, and I really hope you guys/gals enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading and leave me a comment if you can.
> 
> Bye!!!

About two weeks after Cora’s ‘apology,’ Laura bursts into Lydia’s office without knocking and excitedly says, ”Guess what?” Lydia looks up from the stack of briefs she had been working on, giving Laura an expectant look, smiling at the huge grin on the older woman’s face. She’s not wearing her shoes, almost as if she had kicked her heels off and forgotten, and her suit jacket is unbuttoned, while strands of dark hair fall from her stylish up-do. Lydia wonders how someone could look like a complete mess but still look good.

“Remember how your friends peed on my brother’s car?” Laura asks curiously, practically bouncing on her heels.

“How can I forget?” Lydia replies with a humorless huff, holding back an eye roll when she thinks of Cora. “What about Stiles and Scott?”

“That’s his name?” Laura gives her a thoughtful look, but quickly pushes it away, continuing, “Well, the chatty one has been stopping by the bar where Derek works every night.”

“What?” This is the first time Lydia had heard of this, and now she really wants to kill Stiles. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t you dare,” Laura scolds, quickly crossing the room. She leans over Lydia’s desk, a desperate look in her bright blue eyes. “I want to see where this goes. Nay, I _need_ to see where this goes.” Laura’s practically vibrating with excitement, and Lydia’s not ashamed to admit she looks adorable.

Lydia sighs, but nods. “Alright, but you’ll let me know if Derek is going to kill Stiles?”

“Of course.” Laura puts three fingers up. “Scouts honor.” She turns to leave, but stops, quickly facing Lydia again. “The annual Hale family picnic is this weekend. You should totally stop by.”

“I don’t know.” Lydia’s never had a problem being around a group of people. She had been Homecoming Queen her sophomore and junior year and won Prom Queen her senior year. She knew how to work a crowd, and would naturally use the same skills in court (when she eventually made it to court), but she doesn’t know if it’s appropriate to go to this Hale thing. The Hales were not her family no matter how badly she wished Laura they were. Plus, Lydia would have to see Cora again, and she just could not stand that woman.

“Oh come on. Isaac goes every year along with Peter’s flame of the year. Please, it’ll be fun.” Laura gives Lydia a faux-pout, clasping her hands in front of her. “For me?”

Lydia feels her resolve slip and she nods. “Why not.”

“Awesome.” As Laura turns to leave a second time, she calls over her shoulder, “See if Stiles wants to come.” And, with one final grin, she closes the door behind her.

Lydia waits all of fifteen seconds before calling Stiles. He picks up on the third ring, the muffled sound of voices in the background, and before he can say anything Lydia snaps, “Why are you bothering Derek?”

“ _Who?”_

“The bartender whose car you peed on,” Lydia answers rolling her eyes.

“ _Oh, so that’s his name_.” Stiles sounds triumphant and Lydia silently curses herself. “ _And I’m not bothering him. I am a paying customer who is seeking out a service. And, I mean, have you seen the man?”_

“Stiles, two weeks ago you were mad at him because he cut your drunk ass off. What, may I ask, made you decide to start stalking him? Besides what he looks like?”

 _“Uh…”_ Stiles is quiet for a moment, but finally he says _, “His butt_.”

“Oh my God.” Lydia runs her free hand down her face, letting out a frustrated breath. “Alright, but it’s your funeral.”

 _“At least I’ll die happy,”_ Stiles replies softly, a wishful lilt to his voice. “ _So very, very happy. Like if Natalie Dormer were to stab me in the chest happy.”_

Lydia hangs up, shaking her head, and throws her phone onto her desk. She returns to her briefs, deciding that she needs new friends. Except Allison, Allison can definitely stay; along with Isaac and Laura.

Lydia’s not sure when, exactly, she became one of Laura’s friends. It could have been the first time they had lunch, the day after she met Cora, or the three times since then, but Lydia doesn’t regret it. She likes having lunch with Laura, and Isaac of course, and she feels more involved with the firm now that she’s made friends. She even talks to Kira in the break room occasionally, but has to limit her interactions with the other woman. Not because Kira is a bad person, she’s probably the sweetest person Lydia had ever met (save for Allison), but she can be a tad too much like Stiles for Lydia to handle. Though she's not known for the random, perverted comments Stiles generally can’t keep to himself.

Thank god for small favors.

* * *

 

After work, Lydia switches her heels out for a pair of tennis shoes. She doesn’t live too far from the firm, figures it’s a waste of gas driving to work every day, and opts to walk. She loads her laptop into her bag, adding any paperwork she hadn’t gotten through, and shoves her phone into the side pocket.

She slings the bag over her shoulder, snatches her heels off the floor, and walks out of the room. Isaac is walking past her office, but slows down when he spots Lydia, allowing her to catch up, offering her a smile. “Hi.”

“Hello,” she greets returning his smile. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he answers with a shrug. “I talked to Danny today.”

“Business or pleasure?” Lydia teases lightly, and Isaac playfully rolls his eyes. “Is Jackson still giving you trouble?”

“When isn’t Jackson giving us trouble?” Lydia nods in understanding, recalling the two years she spent dating him. There had been a time when she actually thought Jackson had been the love of her life. “So,” Isaac continues shoving his hands in his pockets, “did Laura invite you to the Hale family picnic?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going?”

“Yes.”

“Is Stiles going?” Isaac grins at the small, tired look Lydia throws him. “Laura tells me everything.”

“I figured,” Lydia says facing forward again. “And if she’s right, if her brother _does_ like Stiles, he’s not alone.”

“What?” Isaac quickly steps in front of Lydia, stopping her in her tracks, giving her a wide eyed look. “Are you saying…? Could this mean…? Excuse me.”

Before Isaac could rush away, Lydia grabs his arm, keeping him in place, and says, “Don’t tell Laura. There’s a good chance Stiles’ reasons for liking Derek are entirely superficial.”

“Well, I doubt Derek’s are entirely pure,” Isaac points out, but he agrees not to say anything. “Only because I’m still mad at Laura for guessing my password.”

They part ways on the sidewalk, Isaac heading towards the small parking lot while Lydia crosses the street. She walks down the block, ducking into a small, cozy little bakery in between the post office and a hardware store. The tiny bell jingles above her and Allison, who had been making a elderly man’s order, looks up and smiles, waving at Lydia.

Lydia had met Allison freshmen year at Stanford. They had been put together in the same dorm, along with two other girls that Lydia never bothered to actually get to know, and they had roomed together for all four years of college. In fact, it had been Allison who encouraged Lydia to go to law school. They were best friends, not nearly as close as Scott and Stiles (those two had known each other since they were in diapers), but close enough to know each other’s deepest, darkest secrets (though, Lydia’s secrets are a heck of a lot darker than Allison’s).

When the elderly man walked away, taking his order with him, Lydia moved towards the counter, giving Allison a tired look, and the brunette smiled. “The usual?”

“Make it a double,” Lydia answers leaning on the counter. “Apparently Stiles has a crush on Derek.”

“Car guy?” Allison furrows her eyebrows, cocking her head inquisitively. “Why?”

“His butt.” The brunette nods in understanding. “Though, Laura, she’s Derek’s sister,” Allison nods again, continuing to make Lydia’s order. “She says that Derek might like Stiles, too.”

“That’s bound to be interesting,” Allison comments capping the coffee. She pushes it towards Lydia, along with a brownie. She then walks around the counter, waddling towards a table, and Lydia follows her. Slowly, Allison lowers herself into a chair, sighing with relief, and leans back, resting her hands on her protruding stomach. “My feet are killing me.”

“I imagine,” Lydia states sympathetically, sitting across from her friend. “Any luck on figuring out a name yet?”

“Scott wants to name him Ben, which is fine I guess, but I wouldn’t mind naming him Oliver. Then Stiles suggested Leopold for whatever reason, and Scott jumped on board.” Allison rolled her eyes. “The poor little guy is going to either be nameless or have to live with a strange name.”

“Leo is sort of cute,” Lydia states taking a bite of her brownie, smirking at the tired look Allison gave her. She held up her left hand, relenting, and took another bite of her brownie.

“I just want to meet him.” Allison’s eyes shine with excitement, which usually happens when she talks about her son. “Scott finished painting the nursery last night, it looks so good, and we’ll be able to start moving his furniture in tonight. I mean, it’s becoming really real, you know?”

“I think it became _real_ when the test came back positive,” Lydia points out and Allison shakes her head, giving her friend an amused smile. “I get what you mean though, and it’ll become even more real when you’re getting two hours of sleep each night.”

“I can hardly wait.” Lydia didn’t detect any sarcasm in her friend’s voice. Allison is actually looking forward to living with an infant, something the redhead is certain will not be the case in two months time. No matter how exciting a baby is, there has to be a limit on how much parents can take before they’re ready to rip their hair out.

But Lydia, being the good friend she is, just offers Allison a small smile and keeps her thoughts to herself. She doesn’t want to rain on Allison’s parade, not yet anyway, and just finishes her brownie and coffee in silence.

* * *

Lydia lives in the nicer part of town. It’s the perks of having a father with money (and a mother who can manipulate her ex). Sam Martin spent weeks looking into apartments, trying to find the perfect place for his daughter, and he’s still not satisfied with the place Lydia lives (mostly because Lydia picked it herself right under his nose). She likes it. It has four walls, two bedrooms, a bathroom, and her neighbors aren’t too loud. It’s enough room for her and Prada, even though her dog barely takes up that much space.

The dog in question, has gotten into the trash again, leaving it scattered across the floor. Lydia finds it when she lets herself into her apartment, rubbing her forehead in frustration. This would be the third time her dog has done this, and she’s slowly losing patience with him.

“I’m this close to getting a cat,” she mutters placing her bag and heels on the kitchen counter. She makes quick work cleaning up after her dog, changes into a pair of sweats and a hoodie three sizes too big, and tracks her dog down. He’s in her linen closet (how he got the door open, Lydia doesn’t know), gnawing on a towel, not a care in the world, and the redhead sighs.

“Let’s get you outside before you make an even bigger mess.” She coaxes him out of the closet, snaps his leash onto his collar, and takes him outside. Prada loves it outside, and had he been a bigger dog he’d probably walk Lydia, but he’s small enough that she can keep him from running too far ahead. He barks at a squirrel, growls at a group of children, and otherwise shows his displeasure with a too curious cat by lifting his leg and peeing on it. Lydia wonders if this is what raising a belligerent child is like, and suddenly rethinks her stance on having a kid someday.

She returns home about a half an hour later, letting Prada go, and sits down on her couch. She leans back into the cushions, closing her eyes, reveling in the silence. When she had been in high school, she used to always be surrounded by noise. Girls wanting to be her friend, boys wanting her (even some girls wanting her), so much noise that she never really got to enjoy the silence. That’s one thing she likes about Beacon Hills. The silence.

“Lydia!” That is until her silence is disturbed by her idiot friend.

Much like Laura, Stiles doesn’t knock. He has a key to Lydia’s place because she needed him to walk Prada for a week when she went to Rome, and he hadn’t exactly given it back, opting to use it whenever he wants. She would ask for it back, but Stiles is virtually harmless, and Lydia figures someone needs a key just in case she’s ever stuck at work too late that she can’t walk Prada.

“Oh, there you are.” Stiles plops down next to her, her body moving with the cushions, and puts his arm across the back of the couch. “Alright, so, Derek’s butt…” That’s the thing about Stiles. Lydia (hell anyone) could hang up on him mid-sentence, and he wouldn’t get mad. Instead, he’d show up at your place, sometimes really late at night, sit on the edge of your bed (or couch depending on where you’re sitting), and continue the conversation like it had not been interrupted. He’s forever defiant.

Lydia decides to humor Stiles and listens to him wax poetry about Derek’s butt. She nods in the right places, offers him a comment here or there, but otherwise lets him talk. By the tail end of an hour, Lydia knows more about Derek’s butt than she cares to know, and has gotten no work done.

“Are you sure his name’s Derek?” Stiles asks curiously.

“His sister told me,” Lydia answers softly, thinking about Laura. It’s clear that she cares about her brother and sister, even when she’s annoyed with them she sounds fond, and it makes Lydia envy their close relationship. She and Mara only see each other during Christmas and Thanksgiving, and usually their encounters end with one of them storming off while the other screams about something that happened over a decade ago.

“Not Cora?” And of course Stiles knows Cora. Stiles has known every deputy that went through the police department since he’d been six, and Cora would be no different.

“Laura,” Lydia tells him, closing her eyes.

“Cora? Laura? Wow, their parents were _really_ original with the names.” Lydia’s eyes snap open and she sits up, shooting Stiles a dark look. He pales and quickly adds, “B-but I like their names; really original, especially the name Cora. You don’t hear that every day.”

“It’s short for Coraline,” Lydia comments laying back again. “It’s a family name.”

“Laura tell you this, too?” Stiles asks curiously, something underlying his tone, and Lydia peels her eyes open again, furrowing her eyebrows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he responds jutting his lip out. “It’s just, you sorta sound like you have a crush, Lyd.”

“A crush?” Lydia scoffs sitting up. She gets to her feet, walking into her kitchen, very much aware of Stiles following her. “I do not have a crush on Laura.” She opens her refrigerator, pulling out a water bottle. “Besides, crushes are so high school, Stiles.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, not even attempting to hide his smirk, and Lydia glares at him. “Just wondering if I was this bad when I had a crush on you.”

“I’m going to kick you in the head.” Lydia walks around Stiles, heading back into the living room. “And you were worse, sweetie.”

Ignoring her first comment, Stiles asks, “So, is this you confessing to having a crush on Laura?” Lydia throws her water bottle at his head.

* * *

Lydia brings bean dip to the picnic. She’s not the most skilled in the kitchen, but she knows how to make some things, and dips are probably the easiest. Plus, Allison's whole ‘always bring something to an event’ mentality rubbed off on Lydia the four years they shared living space.

Stiles, on the other hand, carried three plastic containers of food. His cooking skills were subpar compared to Allison’s, but he knew how to make more dishes than Lydia. It doesn’t make much sense, why he brought food, mostly because he usually brings himself and an empty stomach, but the redhead tries not to read too much into it.

“Lydia!” Laura calls from across the park, waving at her. She’s sitting at a picnic table, across from a dark haired woman Lydia doesn’t know, and next to a dark haired guy. The guy scowls when he spots Stiles, turning his glare on his sister, and Lydia figures that that man must be Derek. Laura grins, getting to her feet, and quickly approaches Lydia and Stiles.

“Hello,” she greets giving Lydia a hug. She turns to Stiles, her smile widening, and says, “You must be Stiles.”

“Guilty,” he answers tilting his head in acknowledgement. “Excuse me.” He walks away, dropping his containers off on a table already covered with food. He moves towards Derek, plopping himself down next to him, and starts talking. Derek’s eyes go heavenward and he runs a hand down his face.

“He’s excited,” Laura tells Lydia, a smirk on her face. “I can tell.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Lydia holds up the bowl with her dip and says, “I brought dip. Stiles brought…” actually she has no idea what Stiles decided to bring. “…brought something.”

“That’s so nice of you.” Laura takes the bowl, leading Lydia back to the table.

“…most fascinating thing about teaching is being able to shape young minds,” Stiles is saying to the woman Lydia doesn’t know, sitting way closer to Derek than the older guy likes, his hands all over the place. He always gets excited when he talks about his job.

“Wait, you’re a teacher?” Derek’s eyebrows shoot up and he gives Stiles a skeptical look. “How exactly are you a teacher?”

“I went to school,” Stiles answers with a 'duh' look, holding his hands out. “I know I act like a bit of a jackass sometimes, but I’m not an idiot. Besides, I’ve never done anything to suggest I am a danger to the students. Peeing on a car or letting the puppies loose in the pet store are idiot moves but it’s _not_ like I killed anyone.”

“You pee on my car because I won’t serve you and your idiot friend anymore alcohol,” Derek starts getting to his feet, “and parents still trust you with their kids? This town is ridiculous.” He storms off, muttering to himself, and Stiles offers everyone a polite smile before getting to his feet and chasing after Derek.

“Wow.”

“Laura did you invite that boy here to pester your brother?” the older woman turns, giving Laura an expectant look, and she just shrugs apologetically. “I don’t know where I went wrong.”

“Lydia, this is my mother, Talia,” Laura introduces and Talia stands, offering Lydia her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Lydia says shaking the older woman’s hand. All of her children look a great deal like her, but Derek seems to take after her more, except for her eyes. Her eyes remind Lydia of a different Hale, one that’s walking towards them right now.

Cora’s eyes narrow when they settle on Lydia, but otherwise she does not acknowledge the redhead. She turns to her mother and says, “Peter is parking his car, but he told me to tell you that Malia isn’t going to make it again this year.”

“Let me guess, she’s still backpacking in Europe?” Laura rolls her eyes when Cora nods, shaking her head. “I swear, sometimes I wonder if she is Peter’s daughter. We’ve never even met the girl.”

“She’s his daughter, Laura,” Talia informs her daughter, giving Laura a disapproving look. “And maybe we shouldn’t be discussing family matters in front of your friend.”

“Please,” Laura says throwing an arm around Lydia’s shoulder, “Lydia works for our firm. She’s practically family.”

“I’m sure she’s not interested in our family’s drama.” Talia offers Lydia a smile, and promptly changes the subject. “Are you enjoying your time working for my brother and daughter?”

“I’m learning so much from both of them,” Lydia replies readily. “But did you say brother? I thought Peter was your husband’s brother.”

“Mom and Dad weren’t exactly traditional when they got married,” Laura explains, her lips turning upward. “In fact, Mom even suggested hyphening, but Dad had been adamant about taking her last name. It’s the exact reason why Derek’s middle name is Salinger.”

“Speaking of Derek, where is he?” Cora looks around, hoping to spot her brother, frowning when she sees no trace of him.

“I think he went that way,” Lydia says pointing towards the parking lot. She spots Peter heading towards them, Isaac right behind him, typing on his cell phone, barely concealing a small smirk.

“Who is the awkward man shoving his tongue down your son’s throat?” he asks Talia curiously, his eyebrows rising expectantly. “Whoever he is, I wouldn’t mind having a go with him.”

Lydia and Laura share a quick look, the latter’s grin so wide the redhead fears for her jaw. Cora sighs shaking her head, and mutters, “Figures.”


	3. Black Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead, just so you know.
> 
> I did do some research for this chapter, so it's as accurate as I could make it, and I hope you enjoy this.
> 
> Thanks for the comments, kudos, and all that jazz.
> 
> Drop me a comment if you have the time
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Lydia stumbles towards her coffee machine, gently nudging Prada out of the way with her bare foot. She’s supposed to be at the church in a couple hours, Allison having sent her a handful of text messages, all sounding more and more anxious. Hers and Scott’s wedding, which was supposed to be last Sunday, had to be postponed a week because a pipe had burst in the church’s basement, and Allison is convinced something terrible is going to happen today. She’s suffering from usual, pre-wedding jitters, but try explaining that to a overly hormonal woman carrying a baby constantly kicking her in the kidneys.

While waiting for the coffee, Lydia heads back into her room, changing into a pair of track pants and a sweater, something simple, since she’ll be changing at the church. Her dress is hanging on her closet door, wrapped in the protective bag, like is has been for nearly a month. The dress is lavender with a teal satin belt (Allison originally wanted it to be cranberry and white, but had relented when Lydia explained that the color red [no matter what shade] generally tends to clash with her hair), while Scott and Stiles (who is, no surprise there, the best man) had to wear lavender ties with their teal dress shirts.

Allison, who had decided not to go with the traditional white wedding dress (and Stiles had had a field day pointing out why, only shutting up when Lydia slapped him, hard, in the back of the head), picked a lavender and white, sleeveless dress. She also had to have several fittings throughout the planning stages, to compensate for the growing child inside of her.

Most might call Scott and Allison’s wedding a ‘shotgun wedding,’ but those who know them will disagree. Scott and Allison had been virtually ‘married’ since the day they met at orientation, and the fact that it took this long to actually tie-the-knot is appalling to several people (Lydia included). They should have hopped on Scott’s bike (he has long since traded it in for a safer vehicle) the day they met, ridden to Vegas, and eloped. Almost had, several times, over the course of their college career, but it had been Scott’s mom who talked them into waiting until they graduated. And they did, technically, except Scott still had two more years of vet school, but anyone who knew Scott and Allison for longer than five minutes could understand why they just couldn’t wait two more years.

Lydia heads back to her kitchen, pouring the freshly brewed coffee into her Ms Marvel traveling mug (a Christmas present from Stiles). She leaves it sitting on the counter, grabbing Prada’s leash off the hook by the door. She places it on her dog, slips her feet into a pair of blue ballet slippers, and grabs her mug.

She and Prada head outside, the Papillon sniffing around a telephone pole while Lydia enjoys her coffee, keeping the leash held tightly in her hand. It’s quiet, Lydia’s favorite time of day, and she just breathes in the fresh air. Sometimes all she needs is some time to herself.

Prada finally finishes up his business, and Lydia takes him back to her apartment. She refills her mug, tells Prada to behave, and heads out the door, grabbing her dress and bag on the way. She digs her keys out of the bottom of her purse just as her cell phone rings, The Golden Girls theme song emitting from the speakers (and Lydia seriously needs to keep her phone away from Stiles).

“I’m on my way, Allison,” Lydia answers locking her front door behind her.

“Lydia?” It’s not Allison, it’s Scott, but calling from Allison’s phone. Why is Scott calling from Allison’s phone? And why does he sound panicked.

“What’s wrong?” Lydia asks feeling her heart speed up, practically slamming against her chest.

“S-she collapsed,” Scott stammers sounding on the verge of tears. “S-Stiles and I were on o-our way to the church and then h-her dad called…”

“Scott, slow down, what happened,” Lydia demands needing all of the details. Had something happened to Allison? To the baby? What the hell is going on? “Tell me what happened.”

“A-Allison… A-Allison,” Scott whispered clearly incapable of any coherent thoughts right now.

“Allison what?”

“Hey, Lydia,” Stiles says, obviously taking the phone from Scott. “We’re on our way to the hospital now. Maybe meet us there, we don’t know how bad it is.”

“I’m on my way,” Lydia answers dropping her dress and bag, rushing towards the stairs. She takes them two at a time, moving faster than she's ever had in her life, fear for her best friend giving her almost wolf-like speed. Lydia seems to lose a bit of time, her mind on Allison, so she’s not aware she’s going twenty over the speed limit until a siren wails behind her.

“Not now,” Lydia snarls but pulls over, impatiently slamming her palms into her steering wheel. A part of her hopes it’s Boyd or Erica, both _knowing_ Allison from her bakery and willing to give Lydia a warning, but it’s just her luck. The cop isn’t either. It’s Cora Hale.

“License and registration,” she says into Lydia’s open window. And with a heavy sigh, Lydia wrenches open her glove compartment, pulling out the car’s registration, but she realizes a few seconds later that her license is in her bag; the same bag that is sitting on the floor, outside of her apartment.

“Fuck,” she whispers resting her forehead against her steering wheel. She draws in a deep, frustrated breath before lifting her head and turning to face Cora. The woman, in question, has her arms crossed, clearly waiting for the items she requested, and Lydia says, “I don’t have my license.”

Cora lifts her eyebrows in disbelief, but with a sigh she walks away. She’s gone for a little over three minutes before she returns, this time carrying her ticket book. Writing out one ticket, she says, “I’m going to have to give you two tickets; one for speeding, the other for driving without a license.”

“My friend is in the hospital,” Lydia exclaims furiously, and she watches as Cora’s eyebrows creep towards her hairline, surprise flitting across her face. “Can’t you just let me go with a warning?”

“Look,” Cora starts, her tone sharp, pressing her pen a little too hard into the paper, “I’m sorry about your friend, but you were going twenty over the speed limit, down a road that a lot of children frequent, all while driving without a license. You’re lucky I’m not putting your ass in jail.” She finishes filling out the second ticket, handing both to Lydia. “If I catch you driving without a license again I _will_ have you thrown in jail and your car towed.

“Now, follow me and I’ll escort you to the hospital,” Cora adds before Lydia can protest, already walking back to her squad car. Surprised, and a little confused, Lydia still puts her car into drive and follows Cora to the hospital.

* * *

Allison, it turns out, had passed out due to stress. Add wedding planning to trying to keep her business afloat and carrying a baby, and Lydia didn’t blame her. Scott damn near had a panic attack while waiting for news, and broke down sobbing when the doctor told him both Allison and the baby would be fine just as long as she took it easy.

“We’re postponing the wedding,” Scott announces the moment they’re allowed to see Allison, perching on the edge of her bed, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. His eyes are still red, a little swollen, but his voice is steady. “Just until the baby is born.”

Allison wants to argue, Lydia can tell, but she must realize that they’re still getting married, just later than they planned, and she nods. “Alright,” she agrees quietly, squeezing Scott’s hand.

“I was so scared,” he confesses quietly, his eyes tearing up again.

“Me too,” Allison responds quietly, her own eyes shining brightly, and she leans forward, resting her forehead against Scott’s, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re gonna head out,” Stiles says from the corner of the room, nodding towards the door. “Give you two some space.” Both Stiles and Lydia give their friends hugs before leaving the room, walking past Mr. Argent who is arguing with someone over the phone.

“That was too close,” Stiles comments heading towards the elevators.

“Yeah,” Lydia answers nodding her head.

“I haven’t seen Scott that bad since the fourth grade, when I fell out of the tree. He triggered an asthma attack and almost had to spend the night in the hospital.” Stiles ran a hand through his hair, giving her a brittle smile. “And Allison, I just…” he draws in a deep, shuddering breath, letting it out slowly, “…I’ve never seen her look that small, that frail. She’s probably one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah.” Lydia blinks, trying to hold back tears. She doesn’t want to think about the prospect of losing Allison. She’s the sister Lydia’s always wanted, someone that Mara just cannot be for her, and the idea of a world without the brunette leaves a pit in the redhead’s stomach.

When the elevator doors open, Lydia is surprised to find Cora standing by the front desk. She heads towards the dark haired woman, Stiles trailing behind her, and stops short of the taller girl. They lock eyes for a few seconds, before Lydia wets her lips and says, “Thank you. For escorting me.”

Something flickers in Cora’s eyes, something Lydia can’t pinpoint, before the brunette breaks eye contact and says, “I was just doing my job, ma’am.” She turns to leave, calling over her shoulder. “Remember what I told you.” She walks away, disappearing out of the hospital, and for the first time, a meeting with Cora doesn’t leave Lydia wanting to rip the other woman’s hair out.

* * *

After work Monday, Lydia decides she needs to get out of Beacon Hills for a while. So, she goes home, changes into a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, and packs Prada into the car. He, like most dogs, loves riding in the car, but he also spends the majority of the time barking at the other cars as they drive by, but he’s really the only company Lydia wants right now, so she deals with it.

They end up three towns over, at a dog park. The place closes at sunset, but it's deserted, so Lydia figures it’s safe to let Prada run free for a bit. He runs wild, barking at birds and growling at squirrels, seeming to have the best time of his life.

Lydia sits on a bench, watching him with an amused smile on her face. She finds, shockingly enough, that her mind wanders to Cora Hale. Lydia still can’t, for the life of her, figure out why Cora did what she did yesterday. Why had the brunette, who seemed to loathe Lydia just as much as the redhead loathed her, decide to escort Lydia to the hospital? It didn’t make sense, not to Lydia anyway, but obsessing over it wasn’t going to do her much good, so she let it float to the back of her head for now.

Prada eventually tired himself out, and Lydia is forced to carrying him back to the car. As she places him in the back, she grumbles, “Why are you so heavy? You weigh practically nothing.”

On the drive home, Lydia turns on her radio, Julie London immediately playing from the speakers. Lydia doesn’t recognize the song, but it has a smooth, jazz like sound to it, so she leaves it on, enjoying the music. She crosses into Beacon Hills twenty minutes later, now listening to The Drifters, and is debating whether to order Chinese or Italian, when she spots someone familiar coming out of a diner.

Lydia nearly stops, because she hasn’t talked to Laura since Friday, but she changes her mind when Jordan Parrish follows Laura out. She grins at whatever he says, shaking her head back and forth, and he wraps an arm around her waist. She leans into him, her smile softer, almost fond, and he kisses her forehead.

It feels as if Lydia’s chest has caved in. She blinks, her vision blurring violently, and she hits the gas, speeding up, driving past the diner. She keeps herself in control until she’s back in her apartment. Slowly, Lydia sinks onto the couch, wrapping her arms around herself, staring blankly at her television while tears roll down her cheeks.


	4. Hooked on a Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reviewed, subscribed, and/or left kudos. I'm glad y'all are enjoying this :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, leave me a comment if you have the time, and I don't own these characters.
> 
> Bye!!!

After listening to Air Supply’s _All Out of Love_ on repeat for most of the night, Lydia has decided she is not jealous. In retrospect, there isn’t really any reason for her to _be_ jealous because she and Laura were never anything other than friends. In fact, Laura has never expressed any form of interest in Lydia outside of a platonic relationship. All of this ‘crush’ (and it pains Lydia to admit it, but that’s exactly what it is) business had all been one sided, and that’s okay. It’s perfectly okay.

Tuesday morning Lydia is still repeating ‘it’s okay’ in her head as she steps into the building. She repeats it with a bit more vigor when she spots Laura saying goodbye to Jordan. It doesn’t help much, her stomach in knots, her chest feeling as if someone has kicked her, but at least she makes it to her office and closes the door before she does something stupid. Like kick her desk.

“Shit,” she hisses hobbling over to her chair, sinking into it. She exchanges her tennis shoes with her heels, knowing her big toe is going to be bruised for a few days but not really caring. She yanks her laptop from her bag, placing it on her desk, and opens it. Moodily she stares at the screen, waiting for it to boot up, wishing she had thought to bring her iPod. She could really use some Air Supply right now.

Around eleven her cell phone rings, and Lydia ignores it when she sees it’s Stiles calling. He, no doubt, wants to talk about Derek again, and she really doesn’t want to listen to him bitch and moan about how ‘impossible’ the man is being. She knows she’ll go off on him, and tell him he’s not exactly the epitome of manageable, and the last thing she needs is him mad at her. He gets sulky and moves her things around, and Lydia still hasn’t found her navy blue pumps after the last time.

He tries calling three more times, but Lydia ignores each call. She suspects she’ll be getting a visit tonight, something she can clearly avoid if she just stays out of her apartment. She wonders if Allison will let her crash on hers and Scott’s couch, but immediately dismisses the idea. Stiles practically lives at Scott’s most days.

Lydia’s door bursts open and Laura walks in, a grin on her face. Lydia pretends she’s busy with something so she doesn’t have to meet Laura’s eyes, but she can practically feel them drilling into her head. Finally, with a sigh, Lydia looks up and says, “Yes?” Her voice must be testier than she realizes because Laura’s grin falls and she gives the redhead a worried look.

“You okay?” she asks crossing the room, perching on the edge of Lydia’s desk.

“Fine,” Lydia answers composing herself as best as she can. “What can I do for you, Laura?”

Still eyeing her cautiously, clearly Lydia is not as successful as she had hoped, Laura slowly asks, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Never better.” The redhead plasters a smile on her face, using the same tactics she used in high school. She places her right hand on her desk, rests her left on top of it, and gives Laura her full attention. “What’s up?”

Laura raises an eyebrow, but that’s the only indication that she is clearly not buying Lydia’s act. The two women are silent for a brief moment before Laura says, “You want to go to lunch with Isaac and me?”

Lydia really doesn’t want to go to lunch, but at the same time some part of her doesn’t want to disappoint Laura. It’s pathetic, and she knows she needs to just get over the brunette, but it’s like Jackson all over again. No, this is ridiculous; Lydia does not _need_ to please Laura. She is fully capable of saying no to the older woman.

“I can’t,” Lydia says with a sigh. “I have a lot of work to do.” She doesn’t, not really, but it’s better than flat out telling Laura no (it really isn’t).

“Alright.” Laura gives Lydia one more, unreadable look, before giving her a small wave and walking out of the redhead’s office. Lydia waits until the brunette has closed the door before lying her head down, wondering what the hell is wrong with her.

* * *

Lydia finds herself sitting in the parking lot of a Starbucks, eating Taco Bell. Like [Anna Kendrick](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crytzKqIXOQ), Lydia has a shameful obsession with the stupid restaurant, but unlike the actress the redhead only eats it when she’s upset. She blames Scott and Stiles, both having offered her a taco on more than one occasion. She guesses it’s her fault, too, but she’d much rather let her idiot friends take the fall.

There really is no good reason for why she’s sitting in a Starbucks parking lot. It’s mostly to avoid Scott and Stiles, both having decided to boycott Starbucks when they discontinued the [Pumpkin Spice Lattes](http://www.starbucks.com/menu/drinks/espresso/pumpkin-spice-latte). Both Lydia and Allison have tried to explain that those lattes are a seasonal thing, but Stiles is too stubborn to admit that they are right (it’s the same thing with the McRib), and Scott, being a good bro, has chosen to take his friend’s side. Lydia is actually surprised Stiles hasn’t staged a protest yet.

She has no reason to be upset. Really she doesn’t. She’s being stupid and childish, and she really should have just accepted that stupid lunch invitation. Laura and Isaac are her _friends._ Her _friends_ wanted to have lunch with her. Why couldn’t she just have stupid lunch with her stupid friends? Lydia aggressively attacks her taco with her teeth, tearing a huge chunk off, and chews with more vigor than is absolutely necessary.

Someone knocks on Lydia’s car window, startling her, and she looks up to see Cora peering into her car. Barely holding back an eye roll, Lydia sets her half eaten taco to the side and rolls her window down. She gives Cora a questioning look, eyes narrowed slightly, and scathingly asks, “Can I help you?”

Cora’s eyebrows creep towards her hairline, anger flickering in her eyes, and she gruffly says, “You shouldn’t be loitering, ma’am.”

“Loitering? I am _not_ loitering,” Lydia argues defiantly. She gestures around her car and adds, “ _This_ is not loitering. I am inside my property.”

“Yes, but you are also parked outside of a business establishment. Several patrons (along with a Starbucks’ employee) have called the station complaining about a woman sitting in her car, making them uncomfortable. You need to move your car, ma’am.”

“Why do you insist on calling me ma’am,” Lydia snaps glaring up at Cora. “I’m friends with your sister, and I work for your uncle. Why don’t you just call me by my name?”

“Move your car,” Cora repeats testily, her tone icy, a dark look crossing her face. She then adds, her voice a mere hiss, “Ma’am.”

Lydia sniffs, her green eyes resting on Cora’s brown ones, and insolently says. “No.” She quirks her brow, silently challenging the taller woman, waiting for the brunette’s next move. It doesn’t surprise Lydia when the other woman huffs in frustration, shaking her head back and forth.

“Alright, you asked for this.” Cora reaches for the handcuffs on her belt and says, “Step out of the car, Ma’am.”

“What?”

“I said step out of the car.” Cora gives Lydia a ‘try me’ look when the redhead opens her mouth to protest. With an annoyed scoff, Lydia throws her car door open and gets out.

“This is ridiculous,” Lydia snarls as Cora handcuffs her. “You have nothing on me. This is false imprisonment. This can cost you your job.”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Cora says ignoring Lydia’s ranting, leading the redhead towards her squad car. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”

After Lydia has been stuffed into the back of Cora’s car, the brunette calls a tow truck for the redhead’s car. She then gets into the squad car, starting it up, and glances back, a smirk on her face when she asks, “You want me to run the siren?”

“Bitch,” Lydia mutters darkly. The brunette rolls her eyes at the word, no doubt hearing it more times than she can count being a cop, and faces forward, pulling out of the parking lot, blaring the sirens just for the hell of it. Lydia lays her head against the window and wonders if this day could get any worse.

* * *

Lydia isn’t put in a cell because, while she did defy a police officer’s orders and _maybe_ had been loitering a little bit (maybe), Cora doesn’t feel like filling out the paperwork. Instead, she leaves Lydia in an interrogation room for a good ten minutes before returning, this time carrying two cups of coffee.

“Here.” Cora sets one cup in front of the redhead, taking a seat across from her.

“Am I free to go?” Lydia asks sharply, ignoring the cup sitting by her hands.

“In a minute,” Cora answers, taking a sip of her coffee. She grimaces at the taste, putting it down on the table, and says, “So, you’ve fallen under Laura’s spell.”

“What?” It’s really none of Cora’s business what’s going on in Lydia’s life. They aren’t friends, they aren’t anything ( _maybe_ casual enemies if they _really_ needed to be labeled _),_ and no amount of girl chat is going to change that fact.

“I’m not stupid,” Cora continues completely ignoring the small glare Lydia is giving her. “I saw the way you were looking at Laura at the picnic. You like her, it’s obvious, and everyone sees it. _Except_ Laura.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lydia mutters bitterly, looking away from Cora.

“Laura is a lot of things: charming, brilliant, quirky. She’s also oblivious as hell.” Lydia’s first instinct is to defend Laura, but she reels it in, deciding she’s not going to participate in this asinine conversation. “Look, I know my sister better than anyone. Except for maybe Derek, but he pretends he doesn’t because that’s who he is. And I’ve seen this happen before.”

“What?” Lydia hates herself for even saying anything, but she just couldn’t help it. She needs to see the whole picture, even if she doesn’t agree with (or believe) it.

“Laura had this friend in high school, Jennifer Blake, and it didn’t take long for Jennifer to fall under Laura’s spell; even less to fall in love with her. It became a real problem, and Jennifer ended up breaking up with her girlfriend Kali because she actually thought she had a chance with Laura.

“But Laura, for all her good qualities, just didn’t see it. She started dating some weird, sleazy guy named Adrian followed by a brief fling with some girl named Marin, but she never gave Jennifer the time of day. And it’s not because she didn’t like Jennifer, it’s just she didn’t _see_ Jennifer in that way. They were friends, that’s all they’d ever be to Laura, and to anyone else that’d be okay.”

“It _is_ okay,” Lydia says feeling as if she is beating the subject to death.

“Not to some people,” Cora states with an unreadable look on her face. “Eventually Jennifer just stopped talking to Laura, didn’t come around quite as often, and while everyone else knew why, even Derek for all his obliviousness, Laura thought she did something wrong and tried to fix it. It ended with Jennifer telling Laura she loved her in front of the entire cafeteria.”

“What’s your point?” Lydia feels bad for Jennifer, really she does, and it’s not hard to see the ending of this story, but she doesn’t understand why Cora felt the need to tell her any of this. What does Cora care? Why is she so set on warning Lydia? It doesn’t make sense to the redhead.”

“My point,” Cora starts with an annoyed huff, “is Laura would have already shown interest if she wanted to pursue a romantic relationship. She’s not exactly the epitome of taking things slow, and I want to avoid another Jennifer situation. Because the last thing I want is my sister unhappy with someone she’s clearly _not_ in love with.”

“Wait? She _dated_ Jennifer?”

“She tried,” Cora admits wrapping her hand around her coffee cup. She doesn’t take a drink, instead she studies the contents, her eyebrows furrowed. “She didn’t want to lose Jennifer, they’d known each other since they were in grade school, but everyone could tell Laura wasn’t happy. She didn’t love Jennifer, not in _that_ way, and eventually their relationship imploded. Neither one talk to each other anymore, and I don’t want to see my sister go through that again.”

Lydia doesn’t want Laura to be unhappy. That’s the last thing she wants, but it still doesn’t explain why Cora is doing any of this. It can’t be for _just_ Laura’s wellbeing. If it had been, the brunette could have easily told Lydia to back off, and left it at that, but she took the time to tell the redhead about Laura’s past. Explain that even Laura, who just wants her friends to be happy, can make decisions that she immediately regrets. Can lose friends because she just couldn’t give them what they want, and Lydia doesn’t want to lose Laura as a friend.

“Is she happy with Jordan?” Lydia asks quietly, toying with her untouched coffee.

“So far, she seems very happy,” Cora answers pushing herself to her feet, picking her coffee up. “Look, this isn’t me saying she doesn’t find you the least bit attractive, or that she won’t _ever_ date you…” something flickers in Cora’s eyes, but it’s gone before Lydia can indentify it. “…but, just, don’t push her. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Miss Martin,” Cora says with a small nod, walking out of the room, leaving the door wide open. It’s an obvious dismissal, the conversation over. Cora has shared her piece, and is leaving the rest up to Lydia. There really is only one thing the redhead can do.

* * *

Laura is on the phone when Lydia knocks on her door. She glances up, holding up a finger, gesturing to the seat opposite of her desk. Lydia sinks into it, watching Laura as she finishes up her conversation.

“Look, Whittemore, you haven’t given me an answer yet. You have until tomorrow or I’m taking this to the judge.” She hangs up, sticking her tongue out at the phone. She runs her hands through her hair, messing it up, letting out a frustrated breath. “Sometimes I want to murder him.”

“My sentiments exactly during our last year together,” Lydia says sympathetically, giving Laura a pale smile. She smiles back, lowering her hands.

“So, Lyd, what’s up?”

“I just came to apologize for earlier.” When Laura opens her mouth to argue, Lydia presses on, “No, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just had a bad night, took it out on the first person I saw, and I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Laura states softly. “We all have bad days. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright, but just know that I’m here if you ever want to.” Laura’s phone rings again and she sighs, glaring at it, and Lydia gestures for her to answer it. “Are you ready to…?” her voice trails off and she gives Lydia an ‘oops’ face. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?” Laura nods, running a hand through her hair. “Oh, well, I, um…” she shakes her head, an annoyed look crossing her face. “Yes, Mom, I know, but…” with a huff, her eyes go heavenward. “Fine, I’ll bring him over tonight. Alright. Yeah. Love you too.”

She hangs up, tossing her phone onto a stack of papers, face planting into her desk, her voice muffled when she says, “My mom has been talking to the sheriff again.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother wants to meet Jordan.” She picks her head up, grabbing her phone. As she scrolls through her contacts, she mutters, “Haven’t even gone on a second date with him yet and Mom already wants to meet him. This is almost as bad as the Paige incident in high school. Derek hadn’t even asked the poor girl on a date, yet.” She hit send on a number close to the middle, placing it to her ear.

“Hey, Jordan.” Laura grins, Jordan obviously saying something flirty, and Lydia ignores the lingering jealousy in her stomach. “I’m not calling for that. My mother wants to meet you.” It’s quiet for a moment, but finally Jordan must say something because Laura laughs humorlessly. “Well, you wanted to date a Hale. This is what you’re stuck with.” She nods, leaning back in her chair. “Tonight.” Lydia can almost hear Jordan’s reply, his tiny voice going up several octaves. “Look, I can just tell her you’re busy…” Her smile is relieved, Jordan clearly agreeing. “Alright, I’ll see you tonight.”

When Laura hangs up, she fixes Lydia with a curious stare and asks, “Are you busy tonight?”

“Why?” Lydia raises her eyebrows suspiciously, not liking the way Laura keeps looking at her, and very nearly stands up and runs out of the brunette’s office.

“My mother wants to meet my… well, Jordan tonight. And since Derek and Stiles are going to be there, I just…” she gives Lydia a pleading look and continues, “Will you be my sister’s date?”

Lydia is quiet for all of ten seconds before she says, “Absolutely not.”

“Please, Lyd. Please, please, _please_.” Laura clasps her hands together, clearly not above groveling. “I know you two aren’t exactly friends, and I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate, but Mom keeps hinting that Isaac and Cora would make a cute couple, but neither one are remotely interested in each other. Please. I will owe you for life.”

Lydia wants to say no. She wants to say a lot of things, starting with no amount of groveling is going to make her say yes, but a small part of her wants to see Cora again. She wants to ask the other woman why she did what she did today. Wants to know why she’s done a lot of the stuff she’s done recently. So, Lydia sighs and says, “I’ll let you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly took out the conversation between Cora and Lydia, but then I just decided to keep it. It's kind of a bonding moment between the two... if you squint. Also, I'm hoping it hints a bit more at the idea that Cora already has a thing for Lydia. I also made Lydia a little oblivious. It was completely on accident, but it kind of works.
> 
> Anyway, I'm done typing now.


End file.
